


Butterfly Curtains - Undertale and AU's Fanfiction

by Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato



Category: Undertale (AU's), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abstract, Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Butterflies, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Is An Asshole, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Family Feels, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Imprisonment, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Other, Why Did I Write This?, Wrongful Imprisonment, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato/pseuds/Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato
Summary: Classic Sans has been missing for years, and none of the AU's know where the chill, spunky, Original version of themselves as went. All ways to get to his world have been blocked off, and there have been no other ways to get to his world discovered. That is, until, Ink, Dream and Nightmare all got into an argument.When the worried AU's finally reach the world of Classic, what will they discover? What will they encounter in this very much altered universe that has them questioning whether or not this is actually the original timeline- and, better yet- what will happen then they encounter their long lost contact of a friend again and discover just how broken he really is?The world of dreams is a strange, and magical place. Too bad no one ever said it was always a good one.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue Chapter

//Authors Note: Hello, Hello. Welcome to my profile. Now, if you are familiar with the Wattpad Community, you may already know me, if you have observed other accounts. I say you can take guesses as to who I am in the comments, lol. Anyways, after a long few months of hum-drum hollabaloo, I might be cheering up a little bit. (Maybe) So hopefully posting will be a regular, because I am not willing to go back to the normal, clustered account yet. Enjoy the cringe.//

//PS: This chapter was written in a semi-abstract state of mind. lol//

\- - - - - 

Butterfly curtains.... nearly every person has had one, or a another instance of picturing something through the image of one. Much like adding a filter onto an existing scene in real life, trying to see just how much you can change it. 

Maybe you are moving to a new home... and you want to picture what your new room will look like- using your imagination to make it as crazy, or controlled, or even as strange as you could ever want it to be. The altering of a contemporary reality, or the adjusting of a mental image based on personality, or yearnings, or mood; the mental want or desire for something. Maybe even someone?

Butterfly Curtains can often be viewed as a coping mechanism, or a means of entertainment. 

However....

Sometimes, if wished on long enough... they can become a toxic coping mechanism. Bleeding and blending it with reality after the true hopes and dreams of one have either dried or shattered. What happens after then? What does one do- when their curtains blend into their reality, and encompass their visions? Just how dangerous can it be?

\- - - - - 

The world can be a dark, and terrible place. Maybe even unbearable, if you have been exposed to life's many, many stages of cruelties. It seemed as though there would be never ending cycles of constant agony, despite the pit-stops and side-glances of long-gone; almost seemingly-foreign, happy memories. 

\- - - - -

Chasing around a butterfly in a pit of dreams, a monochrome skeleton of modest appearance ran after the quaint, lightly-glowing and rather obscure being that he had been tailing for the last little while. 

The wings of the quaint creature flittered and fluttered effortlessly as he chased it. Bobbing on the invisible air as it avoided it's many obstacles along the way. Small trails of blue dust and small silvery sparkles fall from the creature, fading in a blur before they could even have a chance to touch the crunching dead grass below the skeleton's feet. 

A voice echoed from the skeleton, fading out into the open air as he called to the small being. No matter what he did, he had no ability to teleport. He could not run any faster that he was going, and he seemed to lack any other means to gain speed. Even with the butterfly seeming to be fluttering at the same speed as before, he was slowly losing his closeness to it. 

It continued on forward, faster, and faster, and faster still, until it vanished in a small extinguished glowing puff in the far perimeter of his vision. The dust evaporating into nothingness as the shadows around him seemed to grow all the brighter without the opposing light to keep them at bay. 

The skeleton found himself falling to his knees, and crying immediately. The world around him seemed to be getting colder, and colder. Everything felt as if it were ice, jabbing in at his sides, and stabbing at his vulnerable, passive form. He curls into himself in response, crying to himself as he buries his face in the messy, saturated knees of his shorts. Running through water had not done him any justice. The water was just another constant reminder of his sorrows. 

"Please... come on... I ...." 

The form paused for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought, before continuing a few seconds later, contemplating surely what to say as he plead for help from the great unknown that had surrounded him. 

"I don't know what to do anymore... please.... don't take anything else away from me..." 

The sound of soft, tired sobbing came from the mouth of a gruff male voice. He was exhausted, emotionally, physically.. mentally... everything was a drag, and a bore. Nothing in his life brought him excitement or joy anymore. All it was to him was one heartbreak after another. 

He wanted someone to trust, and he wanted to be loved again. 

How can one such as he be loved when a little demon of stripes and sticks would constantly take it away from him? Swinging their cursed little blade of red judgement with them as they struck down anything that moved or breathed anywhere near their path. 

Oh, one might have had an excitement to meat such a psychopath, just to see what it was like. Just to see what goes on in their small, little world of lies, misconception and misery. What makes them thrive on such emotional turmoil? What happened to them to make them not see their actions as wrong? 

There was always a string of endless, useless and even hopeless questions. 

There were never any answers. 

However, there was no need to answer this question. There was no need to chase such information when the information being chased was extinct. The information took form of a vulture. Tired, and old and hungry. Lingering near their sick, helpless pray in order to catch their next meal. 

The child that had killed all of them so many times was no psychopath at all. That little demon child that called themselves a human was a flat-out sociopathic, sadistic rose, comprised of hated, and disguised as innocent, maybe even beautiful, at times.

So delicate, and yet, all they are- even among those of pretty flowers and symbols of love- are weeds.

The child knew what they were doing wrong every single time they did it. They knew that they were inflicting suffering and pain. Time, after time, after time. Yet, whenever they get bored, they switch up the game, as if no one has suffered enough. As if this all was their little sandbox and they could build anything in the damned world that they wanted. They kicked over the previous thing they had built, before starting fresh. 

Frisk and Chara were the builders, and Sans... he... was the sand. Even after all that destruction, the only thing that ever remains is the person who had build their fine, little fucked-up world, and the sand of which they had made it with. 

The sand had seen everything. 

The sand had been a key component in all of what happened with the universe. 

The sand was the structure. 

With no sand, there would be no world left. 

'All I want... is to be loved again...." 

'All I want... is for things to go back to normal...'

'Everything is always ruined, just to be remade.'

'No one will ever believe a genocidal killer....right?'

Just like the petals that fall from grown plants, everyone has their limits. Flowers wilt over time, no matter how well you try to preserve them. Your heart can only take so much heart-break. Your mind can only take so much of anything, just as the rest of you...

What if everyone you ever defended and loved was turned against you? 

What if everything you ever worked for came to halt, just for the world to take it, and make something even worse? 

What if, in a world where you avenge those who need avenging- you end up becoming their enemy? 

In a world such as this....

"In a world.. such as this.... I like to dream...."

"In a world, such as this... I like to imagine...."

"In a world, such as this... I want to believe in myself...."

"In a world, such a this... No one can hurt me...."

"In a world... such as.... this...."

"In a world...."

"...."

"In a world... behind these butterfly curtains.... I can finally be loved again..."

"A world... behind these curtains.... is my perfect fantasy..."

"A world...."

"Where I am loved again."

"A world where I am not lonely anymore...." 

"A world where I can be myself."

"A world where ...."

"A...."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Please.... I don't want to be all alone anymore..."

\- - - - -

A skeleton sat there on a rock, marked up with scrapes in his bones as he sobbed into his knees, even still. He continued to sob, and cry, and whimper.

Nothing seemed to ease him. There was nothing more than the bars of iron and seclusion near his head as he leaned into his cell wall. There was nothing more than a thin blanket and a stack of dampened hay in the corner of the cell used as his bed for warmth. 

Dust rested on the nearby stone-encompassed floor. 

The skeleton continued to cry, bringing his shaking hands up to his head, the limbs covered with metal plating that had restricted any use of his skeleton-magic. There was no teleportation. No way to get out and away from this dampened, damned hole of hell that had held him. 

Soon enough, the skeleton lay down, for the nth time in this timeline. 

Soon enough, he found the ability to lull himself to sleep, despite his discomfort, but was awoken by the glowing of a blue light, just like the one in his psyche. The butterfly.

The butterfly floats in front of him, gliding on the still air as it stared to him in an unknown state of mind. 

A gentle, tired couple of arms, extend up, attempting to make peace with the butterfly. Covered still by the plates that had restricted his fingers for so long now. 

\- - - - - 

""What if.... I could set you free? What if I could help you?""

"Come with me... and let me show you the beautiful world... behind your butterfly curtains..."

"I am your friend."

"Need not fear me."

"Anything is better than here...." 

"""All I need... is your soul...."""


	2. Chapter One: Tension Overflow

//Authors Notes: Well, as the beans were spilled, this account is just going to be the modest version of the other account of mine that I have, that way I don't always get bombarded when I don't want to. I don't have much to say, so how about we get onto the story, huh? I want to get another chapter of it out, at least, before I consider abandonment ((a sad, but common reality.))

\- - - - -

"Ink. Have you managed to figure anything out yet? You seem stressed lately..." 

"No... I haven't. It's odd. Every single way that we could have used to get to Classic's Universe has been closed off... I still don't get what is happening. Of course... being ourselves... there is a need to worry."

"I see... maybe you should try taking another break... everyone else is brainstorming at the moment."

"I'm fine, for now."

"Are you s-"

"Blue, get out of here, before I get annoyed. I don't have time for your questions."

\- - - - -

Blue walks out of an office room, before scratching at the back of his skull. It was clear there was a look of frustration illustrated on his face. A low mumble came from him as he closes the door behind himself, letting Ink have solitude in his study. 

"Was there any use talking to him this time?" a yellow-clad skeleton asks from a far wall of the room, surrounded by a few others who mainly kept talking among themselves, for the time being. 

"He's Ink. Heavens knows that he does not like to listen to any of us when we do make suggestions. Especially when he is not in a good mood. You aught to know that very well yourself, Dream. After all, you did try to talk to him first." The blue-clad AU mentioned loosely over his shoulder. "Heaven and Hell both know that Ink's stubbornness is one of his most annoying, negative traits."

Error, who was sitting in the corner of the room near Nightmare only shook his head. "He is the protector of AU's, but he usually doesn't utilize his title well. We already know that Ink is a fucking sociopath. Takes one to know one, after all." The glitching skeleton was referring to himself as the other sociopath. 

All of the Bad Sanses were Sociopaths, really. Save for, maybe, Dust. Dust was probably both. 

"Blaming Ink for being a bad 'guardian' of sorts is getting us nowhere. All of us know that Classics world has been closed off for a long time, and to top it off, negative energy is congested there." Nightmare steps forward from the shadows, standing near Dream, who moves to the side a little. 

Nightmare and Dream had just started to re-form a little bit of an acquaintance-like friendship again, though they were far from calling each other brothers. Most of the time, they still argued over small things due to old emotions. 

However, due to the pact that everyone had made, it had formed an alliance of 'peace' in a sense. It had made everyone promise to behave themselves for the good of the other universes, as well as their own. (If they had any)

Another reason all of them had stopped fighting was because of Classic himself. 

Classic was the only one of them who could be friends with everyone, despite every difference they had. Classic understood, or at least, took time to learn about what problems everyone had. He even knew secrets about those in close friend-groups that other members of those friend-groups did not know about. 

Such as Ink always feeling insecure, and angry at himself, because he knew how selfish he could be. 

Or even how isolated Cross felt a lot of the time, despite always being around the bad guys. 

Fell was in the same category as Cross, really. 

The main group of Sanses were diverged between the 'Good Guys' and the 'Bad Guys' though those titles were a little bit of a null point. 

Fell often fell into neither of them because he was not out for destruction the way the Bad Guys were (especially when their group had just formed) and he was not out for justice, like the Stars were, especially in their golden years. 

"Classic has been gone a really long time... if we ever get the portal to open up again, I wonder how he will react to seeing us again... we already knew that he had serious depression, and sometimes, seeing us would help him... but with us gone... maybe he confided in his friends and brother..." Dream said to himself, though he knew everyone could hear his train of thought. 

Dust rolled his eyes before looking to the side. "We all care for him. We all know him well... he wouldn't confide in anyone in his universe... especially considering that the goat would always doubt him or berate him when he confessed the evil of that child when they come through a lot of the time."

Everyone grew cold at the thought. 

It was true. Toriel usually did seem sweet, and understanding, maybe even like an angel. However, there are two sides to every coin, if not more- (especially when you have a lot of emotional, mental, and physical problems)Toriel was over-protective; she was also very, very stubborn and extremely open-lipped. 

If she disagreed with what was going on, or what those around her were doing, she openly disagreed and didn't hide it. 

"I have to agree with Dust on this one.." Killer muttered. "She is always stubborn. Seeing as Horror, Dust and I are the lease diverged versions of Classic's world, we aught to know." Killer frowned, feeling some more tar starting to leak from his eye-sockets. 

After some time, Nightmare let out a bold, annoyed grunt as he felt the negativity building up in the room. Negativity was something he thrived on, even to this day. However, that was just how powers, when he was a power guru, he would be having the time of his life feeding off the pain and the ailments of those around him. 

Now it was a bore, or a simple annoyance to his mental-state, while his powers start to fluctuate from the activity in the air. 

"I am going in there to talk with Ink. Someone needs to get it through that dumbasses head that he can't continue thinking of this shit all alone. He is coming up with no solutions, and his superiority complex is getting on my nerves anyhow. We are getting no where. We have been getting no where for a long time." The blackened Sans starts to walk toward the door, his tentacles waving around in a fashion that reminded some of the others of a cat- namely when they flick their tail in annoyance. 

"Nightmare, I am coming with you. Just in case Ink does not want to talk to you, maybe I can try to get him to listen up..." Dream seemed to hesitate, seeing Nightmare look over to him, rolling his pinpricks, but ultimately settling. 

"Whatever, just hurry up."

\- - - - -

No sooner than Nightmare and Dream entering the room, and closing the door, there were the sounds of yelling and angry debated words in the room that they had entered. Most of it was between Ink and Nightmare. Dream only coming in to try and pacify one or the other if he thought it was necessary. 

However, after a couple minutes, it was clear something was said that had angered Dream as well, because the guardian of positivity too, started to yell. 

"Well, that is going well. I wonder how long it will be because things get drasti-" before Error could even finish his thought, there was the sound of a small explosion, as well as the crumbling of a wall, and silence. 

Everyone in the immediate area were soon on their feed, running over to the door. The door opened, revealing Ink, Nightmare and Dream all standing there. Dream was holding Nightmare back a little bit, still making sure not to get too close to the stressed octopi-based skeleton. 

Ink was standing on his desk, holding his paintbrush. he looked down at Nightmare, his normal eyes and mouth shifting to their typical 'creepy' version. 

Rather than anyone looking at each other, though, they were staring over to the nearby wall that held the papers for the AU's and Universe's that Ink seemed so fond of. There, sitting on the ground, Undertale rested. 

The only notable difference was that the paper was no longer dull in color. The symbols on it glowed Classic's favorite shade of blue, as did the rest of the papers that symbolized the AU's. 

Undertale was now... somehow... active....

"The paper... it's... lighting up."

"Finally. Thank fucking god...." Nightmare grumbled, walking over to the paper, careful not to touch it yet. "If it is active... we can go see Classic... now that the gate-way is open though.... I can feel sickening negativity coming from it though... it's making my head hurt..." Nightmare shakes his head, glaring a bit at the paper. 

"I don't like the looks of this...."


End file.
